


Taking Chances

by missameliep



Series: Desire and Decorum Modern AU - One Shots [1]
Category: Desire & Decorum (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Halloween, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27391459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missameliep/pseuds/missameliep
Summary: Elizabeth is not thrilled to go to a Halloween party with her friends Briar and Annabelle, but a cute guy dressed in a prince costume might change her mind.
Relationships: Hamid (Desire & Decorum)/OC: Elizabeth, Hamid/Main Character (Desire & Decorum)
Series: Desire and Decorum Modern AU - One Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090448





	Taking Chances

**Author's Note:**

> * English is not my first language.  
> * All characters belong to Pixelberry.  
> * This one-shot is NOT from the same AU of the series Second Chances.  
> * This is my submission to @choicesweeklychallenge - prompt: “Oh come on! Live a little!”

The reflection on the Underground’s window stares back at her and Elizabeth sighs. 

Why she ever agreed to Briar’s suggestion and dressed up as a Disney Princess on her first Halloween at London is a question that lacks a simple explanation.

At least, her friend is happy. More than happy. Briar takes the date and dressing up seriously; then she was pleased Elizabeth agreed to go as Belle and wear this ridiculously bright yellow dress, especially after their friend Luke refused to dress up as Prince Naveen or Aladdin.

While texting their friend Annabelle, Briar cannot contain her joy in her Princess Jasmine’s turquoise costume. An unfaltering smile curling her red lips. Once more, she tells Elizabeth how excited she is and what to expect from this party.

“I wanted to go to this party for ages. But it is so exclusive…” she says softly, checking her braided hair and makeup on the mobile’s screen, and smiles warmly back at her. “That’s our stop!”

On their way outside, linking her arm to her friend’s, Briar pulls her closer to another wefie in front of a Halloween themed poster on the station’s wall. Another one Elizabeth’s mouth curled into a shy tight-lipped smile, that did not reach her eyes.

Studying the picture before posting it on Pictagram, she asks, “Aren’t you excited?”

“I’m cold.”

Briar smiles, and they move on. Getting close to the exit, the wind blows through their clothes and hairs, and Elizabeth wraps her arms around herself. Going out on one of the chilliest Halloween nights in decades seems less and less like a smart idea, specially to someone who just changed continents, leaving a tropical country behind only four months ago and is still getting used to the weather.

“Cheer up, Lizzy! This is one of the greatest nights of the year!”

Elizabeth steals a glance at her friend grinning in her thin jacket and belly partially exposed.

“I wonder how you are not freezing in that costume.”

“It’s not that cold…”

“Not that cold? It’s supposed to be the coldest Halloween night in God knows how many years!”

“Really? Then I’ll have to find someone to keep me warm then,” she winked, and Elizabeth failed to keep a straight face at the other’s banter.

On their way to the stairs, Elizabeth forgets to pull up the hem of the long dress and trips on it again. Mentally, she cursed it and wished she had picked a warmer and more practical costume. Pulling the skirt up, she follows Briar upstairs.

On the pavement, the wind blows colder, but the throng of people parading in different costumes do not seem to mind. The close they get to their destiny, the more detailed and fancy the costumes become, reminding her of the Carnaval at the streets of Rio minus the music, and Briar’s grin becomes wider.

When they finally arrive, Briar cannot hide her anxiety. “Do you see, Ann?” Elizabeth also looks around. “Where is she?” Briar squints her eyes and stands on her tiptoes, scanning the crowd. “I’m ringing her. You have the tickets, right?” she says and takes a few steps to the side, peeking at a new group approaching.

While Elizabeth is focused on fishing the three tickets inside her book-shaped bag, a shadow projected on the ground comes straight into her direction, and she looks up just in time to get a glimpse of a tall man sporting a white costume speaking on his mobile. The man is looking at the other side, oblivious to her presence, and bumps on her shoulder, almost making her spin like a cartoon character, and she moans. The man stops immediately, and his free hand raises to steady her; instinctively, she grabbed his forearm, fingers digging on the sleeve’s cool satin.

From his tongue came an unfindable string of apologies in a melodious and accented voice, which only stopped when she shyly looked up at him, meeting his concerned expression – eyebrows furrowed in a handsome and warm bronze-skinned face, that could almost go unnoticed under the vast ash blonde wig, as big as a hat on top of his head. His intense deep brown eyes lingered on her face, probably waiting for her to speak; however, it seemed that the English vocabulary stored in Elizabeth’s brain had completely vanished in those past seconds, and somehow complimenting his eyes in Portuguese wasn’t the right thing to say.

“Are you alright?” he asked, and she managed to nod. Something about her reaction made him smile. A wide and genuine smile.

_Is he laughing at me?_

Watching them, Briar giggled and slowly came back to her friend’s side. Her dark eyes glinted with amusement, and Elizabeth noticed how close they were, the man barely a foot away from her, his hand on her waist and hers still holding his arm.This realization caused her heart to accelerate and hastily she pulled her hand away, taking a step back, and he pulled his as well. She mouthed an apology to which he just clicked his tongue, the persistent smile dimpling his cheeks.

“I – Our friend… She is waiting,” Elizabeth mumbled.

“Of course,” he said, moving aside, and his gaze didn’t waver from Elizabeth’s face. “Hopefully, we’ll met again.”

Linking her arm with Elizabeth, not very subtly Briar tried to communicate something, tilting her head and opening her eyes to the fullest. The other assumed she wanted her to talk to the man, but her mouth closed again, her tongue emptied of words.

Eyes flicking from one face to the other, Briar let out an exasperated sigh and knocked the red rose from Elizabeth’s bag without the other noticing. Only a few steps towards the queue and the man’s voice resonated again.

“Did Belle loose her rose?”, he asked.

When Elizabeth turned around, he was kneeling, the red plastic rose on his hand extended in her direction.

Briar nudged her side, and tentatively, Elizabeth returned.

“Thank you,” she managed to say, and his fingers intentionally brushed hers when the item passed to her hand. This and the way his eyes contemplated her warmed her cheeks like they had been kissed by a thousand suns. His smile broadened as he raised to his feet, and she lowered her gaze.

Without another word, she sprinted to Briar’s side. Casting one last glance over her shoulder, she sees the man dressed as a Prince still standing in the same place watching her.

Near the pub’s entrance, Annabelle waved at them.

“Oh, my God!” Briar squealed, drawing curious eyes. “What are you wearing? Where is the dress?”

“Oh, darling! You didn’t really expect me to dress as Snow White, did you?”

“Yes!” She raised her hands in frustration, and her eyes inspected the other’s attire, red bandana on the brown hair and a denim button-up shirt. “Why are you not wearing a costume?”

“This is my costume!” Annabelle flexed one arm and struck a pose. “I’m Rosie the Riveter.”

Briar muttered something under her breath about people ruining their coordinated costumes every year and marched inside the pub. Chuckling Annabelle trailed behind with Elizabeth.

“I think you look great, Ann,” Elizabeth said, and Briar glared like her words were an unthinkable treason. “I wish I knew that was an option,” Elizabeth confided in a lower tone.

“But you look adorable!”

“She does, doesn’t she? And how perfect is her hair?” Briar praised her masterpiece, and Annabelle agreed. “And she’s already caught the eyes of a prince.”

“By prince she means a nice guy with a ridiculous blonde wig.”

“Ridiculously hot guy…” Briar mused. “And I saw the heart eyes you were flashing at him, Miss Cat-ate-my-tongue.”

“I was so not!” she retorted. “Let’s not talk about it, okay?”

Briar mouthed to Annabelle that she really was, and both laughed quietly. This was the first time Elizabeth exhibited such behaviour over any guy, and Briar would not let this go easily.

An hour and half later, Briar’s initial enthusiasm had not faded.

The girls have enjoyed fancy drinks, lounged for a while on a Halloween themed space with fake spider webs and sparkling skeletons and snapped wefies to post on her Pictagram – and at least a couple of pictures of London’s 24th most eligible bachelor were also snapped just in case.

At the dance floor, a man in a Bowie’s costume with the red lightning painted on his face approached Briar, who flirtatiously responded to his advances and soon they were moving together. Meanwhile Elizabeth struggled to dance with Annabelle despite every person who walked past her stepping on the hem of the long dress. Though she got frustrated, she only cursed them and the dress mentally.

When the more upbeat sequence reached its end, Elizabeth convinced her friends to take a break and get more drinks.

While they chatted and laughed waiting for their drinks, an older guy in a red and black jacket circled around them and intently stared at Elizabeth. Discreetly Briar pointed that out, “Let’s go before Hugh Hefner over there loses his eyeballs inside Lizzy’s cleavage. Or tries to recruit her as a bunny.”

“Eww!” Elizabeth grimaced, and Annabelle glared at the man on their way to the beer garden in the back of the pub.

The beer garden was spacious and charming with walls covered in ivy. Small multicoloured lamps hanging above their heads illuminated it creating an almost ethereal atmosphere, if not for the glowing carved pumpkins and the multitude of zombies and monsters occupying the space.

The night was colder now, and five minutes later Elizabeth begged for them to stand near one of the outdoor heaters. Despite Briar’s protests about the possibility of the heat ruining their hairs and makeup, she finally acquiesced.

On the other side of the garden, a redheaded girl dressed as a vampire waved and Annabelle returned the greeting, and soon excused herself to greet some friends from uni.

Sipping the beer, Briar asked Elizabeth, “No one caught your eye?”

Elizabeth timidly said no, and with a smile returned the question. “What about you? Are you and Bowie dancing again?”

“Unlike the original Bowie, this one should’ve remained silent…”

Whilst she spoke, Elizabeth’s eyes fortuitously found the guy dressed as a prince. Accompanied by two other men – one tall with bronze skin as his own, dark hair and a full beard, and the other shorter and with blond hair and clean shaved face, both dressed as pirates with matching ruffled white shirts – he talked animatedly and stood close to a tree a few metres from them. 

Under the moonlight, even with the ridiculous wig, he looked handsome. Her mind was soon inundated by dozens of questions about him, from the origin of his accented voice to how his real hair looks like beneath the hideous wig.

“Why so thirsty, Lizzy?” Briar whispered into her ear finally catching her attention, and Elizabeth’s head whipped meeting the other’s eyes. “Oh, never mind! I just saw the reason.” A mischievous smile on her lips, and she chuckled into the glass. 

“No. I mean, I was not – I was just wondering which Prince he is dressed as.”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s start lying to each other.”

“What are we talking about?” Annabelle asked peeking over their shoulders.

“Lizzy was ogling Prince Charming over there,” Briar raised the pint in his direction, and Elizabeth gasped and grabbed her wrist, lowering her hand.

“Please, don’t do that!” she pleaded, and Briar giggled. “And I was not.”

“Why don’t you go over there and talk to him?”

“He’s with his friends and… I wouldn’t know what to say…”

“Hello, there! I’m Elizabeth,” Annabelle suggested. “It is usually a good start.”

“I can’t.” She shook her head and gulped the remaining of the drink.

“He clearly seemed interested…”

_If he were, wouldn’t he have looked for me?_

“We don’t know that.”

“And you will never know if you don’t take the chance, Liz.”

“She’s right. You’ve been here for months and you haven’t gone out on a single date…”

“I have been busy with uni and setting down and everything else…”

“You’re not busy now, Liz.”

“But he obviously is.”

 **“Oh, come on! Live a little!”** Briar plucked the tall glass from her hand and pushed her. “Go talk to him!”

One foot stepped on the inside of the dress and Elizabeth stumbled. A low squeal left her mouth while she tried to regain balance. Pulling her hair back, her eyes met the gaze of the man dressed as a prince and he smiled. Probably amused by her clumsiness, she considers.

Twice now she embarrassed herself in front of him and that is enough for a night.

Turning around, she covered the burning cheeks with her hands, and looked at her friends. Both mouthing and waving for her to go talk to him. Instead, she marched to the opposite direction, head bowed, and eyes fixed on the ground. Crossing the door that leads back inside, she found the corridor to the restrooms.

On her way out of the restroom, a trio of young women dressed up as witches crammed on the corridor giggling and striking poses for wefies. Elizabeth carefully walked around them, uttering excuses, and almost collided with a man dressed up as a zombie with a very believable fake wound on his face. After a few bumps on party-goers and many apologies, she managed to reach the bar. While she waited for a spot on the counter and to be seen by the bartender, she took her mobile out of the bag to text her friends.

When, she raised her eyes from the device, she hoped to see the prince guy somewhere, instead, to her disappointment, she found the Hugh Hefner impersonator lurking around her again.

Too faraway from the counter and unable to catch the bartender’s attention, she inspected the party-goers in front of her – a group of men talking at the right corner with the drinks in their hands, oblivious to people around them, a couple getting excessively handsy on the far right and a trio of men in black suits and shades like the Men in Black characters on the left – and she tried to figure out which one of them will move away first. She bets on the Men in Black party. Distancing from creepy guy, she welcomes the banter and laughter that reaches her ears.

Every single person at the party seems to be having a better time than Elizabeth is. And they probably are.

She appreciates Briar’s efforts; however, she would rather be anywhere else, anywhere quieter. She peeks at the mobile and the hour and considers leaving. She could join Luke and his friends at the horror films’ marathon. _It’s just a few blocks from here,_ she thinks _, or maybe I should go home._ Her finger hovers over the screen and before she decides to text, an unfamiliar silhouette appears on the corner of her eye.

Slowly she turned her face, recognizing the man smirking at her. Creepy older guy. Again.

“Did your friends ditch you?” the man asked once their gazes met, and she grimaced.

Despite politeness being one of her most discernible traits, she knows too well what being polite instead of firmly demonstrating she’s not enjoying someone’s advances mean. She chooses not to answer his question, and say she’s not interested.

Ignoring what she said, he inches closer.

“I’m Richards. Tristan Richards,” he tries to impersonate the James Bond’s greeting and laughs at his own banter. His voice raises even more in an attempt to speak over the loud chattering. “Should I call you Belle or are you telling me your name?”

“I’m really _not_ interested.”

The group of men in black suits move away with their pints in hand and Elizabeth props her elbows on the counter, catching the bartender’s attention. He signals he will be right over, and her gaze fixes at the tele showing the highlights of this evening’s football match. The older guy moves to the counter too, taking the place beside her before two women can. Elizabeth lets out an annoyed huff, as the man does not take the reiterated no for an answer.

When the barman stands in front of her, she orders a Cosmopolitan. The third of the night.

The man leans on the counter, trying to meet her eyes. “I bet you have a lovely smile,” he says, and her eyes almost roll inside her skull. How many times haven’t she heard similar words?

Her thoughts are interrupted by a masculine voice calling someone behind her.

“Darling!” the voice resounds again even closer. Even though she doesn’t recognize it, curiosity gets the best of her and she peaks over her shoulder. Standing behind her was the man dressed like a prince from earlier.

When their eyes meet, she realises he is in fact speaking to her.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you,” he continues in a worried tone, and steps between her and the man on the Hugh Hefner costume. “I am awfully sorry for making you wait this long. You will not believe the evening I’m having. First I could not find a cab…” While speaking fast and without catching his breath, he winks and moves closer; his body is now completely blocking the other man’s view and access to her. A relieved exhale empties her lungs, and she offers the prince a small smile.

“I – It’s alright,” she replies forcing her voice to sound casual and louder, playing the part. “You are here now.”

Tapping on the Prince Charming’s shoulder, the older guy barks, “Hey, chap! Can’t you see you’re interrupting us?”

The act was not enough to convince the other to back off.

The prince glances at the other over his shoulder, and then exchanges a look with Elizabeth before stepping aside, clearly waiting for a pointer on how to conduct himself.

Taking a deep breath, she places a hand on the prince’s shoulder, and he inches closer, placing a hand on her back.

“Actually,” she says firmly and louder, “you are the one interrupting us.”

“Why? Is this pauper masquerading as a prince your boyfriend or something?” he snorts.

“Yes, he is my boyfriend!”

“Oh! Sorry, mate. She never mentioned a boyfriend.”

“Does it make a difference?” she asks outraged, and the man in the prince costume tells him he’s not the one he should apologise to. But the creepy man leaves before receiving the drink he ordered or the scold she had planned.

Elizabeth takes the drink from the counter and her attention returns to the prince smiling broadly at her. His eyes lower to her hand, which rests now on his chest, and she gasps before pulling it back.

Collecting herself, she thanks him.

“You don’t need to thank me… I saw your friends were not around and that guy seemed to be annoying you.”

“He was. But dealing with creepy dudes is ‘Being a girl 101’, so…” she said softly close to his ear, “We get used to it.”

A sympathetic smile curled his lips but did not reach his eyes. “I wish you wouldn’t have to. None of you.”

“Maybe someday…” she muttered and took the drink to her lips.

Lowering his head, he suggested, “If you would like, I can walk with you back to where your friends are.”

A thoughtful offer, she considers, but Briar’s teasing is the last thing she needs now.

“You don’t have to…”

“I know. But what if I want an excuse to enjoy your company a little longer?”

He was so close, that his breath fanned her cheek, and her heart pounded faster. Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth mustered the courage and raised to her tiptoes. 

Without meeting the man’s gaze, Elizabeth asked, “If you don’t have another damsel in distress to rescue, would you like to have a drink with me?”

“I would love to,” he said, and they looked for the bartender, who was mixing other people’s orders, and their gazes met again. He extended his hand for a shake. “I am Hamid.”

“Elizabeth.”

His hand enveloped hers. “Nice to meet you, Elizabeth,” he said into her ear, and her name never sounded better. His skin was soft and warm. Like his eyes. The handshake lingered, both reluctantly to let go of the other’s hand.

She pulled her hand first and lowered her gaze, feeling the heat creeping its way to her cheeks and tinting her skin red. Thankfully, the dimly lights concealed it.

The man looked away to address the bartender, who chuckled and echoed his words, “Virgin Cuba Libre?”

Hamid confirmed, and the other nodded and turned around to mix the drink.

Observing the peculiar exchange, she asked, “So, you are having a Coke?”

“With lime juice,” he replied with a smile, “Very refreshing.”

“Don’t you drink?”

“Alcohol? No.”

“Tonight or never?”

“Not anymore.”

Sipping her drink, she wondered which could be his reasons.

“Disappointed?”

“Surprised.”

His lips curled with amusement. “Why?”

“In case you haven’t noticed. This is a pub.” She pointed at the pints passed to the patrons’ hands, and he looked at the same direction; then she resumed in a conspiratorial tone, forcing him to lower his face to hear her. “Those huge glasses over there? Not apple juice.”

He chuckled. “Are you sure?”

“I was bitterly disappointed myself,” she remarks, lips quirking up at her jest.

He thanked the bartender and took the tall glass, and they moved from the bar, and a waiter walked past them with a tray full of empty glasses.

“As you see, people are expected to do a lot of drinking here,” she said and leaned against the wall, and she watched as his shoulders raised and fallen with laughter.

Grinning, he inched closer, and lowered his head to speak close to her ear. “I cannot say doing what’s expected of me is something I usually do. Besides, I just came for the costume party.” His free hand motions at his clothes. “As you can see, I took the task quite seriously.”

Tilting her head, she inspected the costume for a moment, considering the white and gold uniform with a multitude of decorations, the sash, red velvet cape and the wig.

“You disagree?”

“No, I only don’t recognize which prince you are supposed to be…”

“And you shouldn’t. This is what happens when you’re dared by your friends to wear the most ridiculous costume they could put together.”

“Oh.” She covered her mouth and a chuckle. “What did you do? Because this wig… wow!”

He leaned closer. “You don’t like it?” He moved his face from side to side and the blond strands barely swayed. “This is my real hair.”

“Glossy.” She laughed freely and sipped her drink, and he did the same, but his gaze remained on her face.

“So they dared you to wear all of that…”

“The entire night.”

“Sorry. You seem hot.”

“Thanks. I _am_ hot,” he said and winked.

She gasped. “The clothes! I meant the clothes!” she tried to correct herself and looked away. But then chastised herself, why can’t she be more like Briar? _Why am I so awkward at this?_

They remained silent for a moment. Just sipping their drinks and stealing glances at each other.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked, and she nodded.

After returning their glasses to the bar, he held her hand, leading the way. The dance floor had gotten so crowded in the past hour that it was almost impossible to find a clear spot. Zigzagging through the throng of people, they held each other hands tighter, trying to remain together; then her hand reached for his waist, and they moved even closer. When Hamid found a place that seemed good enough, they looked at the dancers around them and at each other for a moment.

Standing in front of him, Elizabeth smiled awkwardly and tried to tell him she liked the upbeat song, but judging by his expression he couldn’t understand it.

Keeping a respectful distance, considering the limited space, Hamid moved his shoulders and arms in the rhythm of the music and she tentatively swayed, holding the dress up to avoid accidents. Suddenly a group used the space between them as a corridor, and she lost sight of him for a long moment.

When they were able to reunite, he asked if he could hold her and she acquiesced. A hand on her waist, making her sway in the same rhythm, and when the flash of light illuminated his face, she thought his eyes were almost too intense to look direct at. His gaze constantly lowered to her lips and roamed down her body. Perhaps it was the alcohol. Perhaps it was the atmosphere. But her gaze didn’t waver from his lips either.

Suddenly, Hamid was pushed forward when someone bumped on him and he collided with her. He apologised and obliged to her request of leaving the dance floor.

“Apparently, dancing was not the best idea,” he said softly into her ear once they distanced the louder music.

“I suppose not.” She smiled. “This is not the best outfit to dance anyway.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

She studied his expression for a moment and spoke the truth. “You asked me to dance.”

“You could’ve said no.” 

She pursed her lips, refraining to say she wished to spend time with him, even it involved dancing or embarrassing herself or both. 

“Do you always do what people expect of you?”

“Not always. But this ridiculous costume is screaming that I do it more often than not…”

“I don’t know if my opinion counts for anything, but I think you look absolutely gorgeous,” he said, and she gnawed at her lower lip, averting her gaze.

“Let’s suppose you could do exactly what you like starting right now. What would you do?”

She pondered for a moment. Her first thought was kissing him, and she blamed the alcohol for that. But that is not the sort of thing she would say out loud to a stranger.

The next thing was to leave this crowded place.

“Promise you will not take it personally.”

“I promise to try not to.”

“Okay, I wish I could go somewhere quieter and less crowded.”

“Would that quieter place include my company?”

“Maybe,” she said, and he smiled. “But why would you want to escape this party? I heard this is quite the event.”

“The party won’t be nearly as interesting if you leave.”

“But where is he taking you?” Annabelle asked, a crease between her eyebrows.

“We’re just strolling around the South Bank,” Elizabeth replied. “Don’t worry.”

“If you’ve come to the self-defence classes, I wouldn’t have to worry,” Annabelle spoke in a hushed tone and glanced at Hamid, standing a few feet away, a grin exposing his white teeth. Her attention moved to her tiny bag, and she fumbled for a second and fished an item that was pressed against Elizabeth’s hand. “Take this.”

“What is this?” Elizabeth asked, inspecting the small object.

“Taser.” Annabelle covered it with one hand. “Be careful. And call us immediately if he’s a creepy.”

“Stop it, Ann. She’ll be fine. Just look at him,” Briar interrupted. “Look at his eyes.”

Without discretion, the trio looked at Hamid, who kept the same smile, not showing any external sign that he was intimidated by the ongoing deliberations.

“I have a good feeling about this,” Briar said excitedly.

“You said that about Lauren too.”

“Sorry, I was completely wrong about her, but this time…”

The couple walked side by side, and Elizabeth pulled the coat tighter around her chest to protect herself from the wind. Under the moonlight, the City glowed, and Halloween turned that corner near the Thames even livelier.

“You’ve been here for two years?” she asked, and he confirmed. “And how can you know this much about the city? I am sure most Londoners do not know half you are telling me…”

“It’s one of the joys of moving to a new city: learn everything I can, explore every corner and choose my favourites.”

The locks of hair dancing with the wind were tucked behind her ears, and she asked, “And which are your favourites?” He enumerated places and promised to take her on a tour, if she liked that; and Elizabeth smiled and agreed to it.

“Any favourite around here?”

Her question made him stop and look around.

“Actually, there’s one. Come.” His hand reached for hers, and they turned and walked down an emptier street. His fingers intertwined with hers, and it seemed their hands fit perfectly together.

“Where we’re going?” she asked trying to keep with his pace.

“You’ll see in a minute.”

They stopped in front of a small shop, and Hamid announced, “This place serves the best kebab at London.” 

Following him inside, she was grateful for the store heating. At the back, a middle-aged man with dark brown skin was sitting on a bench, watching the news when the bell on the door rang indicating their presence.

Hamid greeted the man in another language. _Was it Turkish?_ The man stared in confusion for a moment but smiled in recognition once the wig came off.

Elizabeth paid close attention to their conversation, though she couldn’t understand a word, but mostly, her eyes lingered on Hamid’s dark brown hair flattened by the wig before it was covered once more.

A moment later, Hamid turned to speak to her and asked what she wanted. Moving closer, Elizabeth observed the man preparing the food, while Hamid described the ingredients and the preparation, answering every one of her questions in a low voice.

“How do you know all of that?”

“I come here often. And this sort of food is not unfamiliar to me.”

“Is this your comfort food?” she asked when he passed the sandwich to her hand, eager to learn more about him, and what this place meant.

“It is my safe food.” He smiled. “I come here knowing there is not a single ingredient I cannot eat.”

“Allergies?”

“No,” he paused and seemed to hesitate before speaking again. “They serve halal¹ meat here, the one that is prepared as prescribed by the Quran².”

The back of her hand brushed crumbs of the flatbread from her mouth, while she followed Hamid outside, and the wind blew through her clothes and tousled her hair again.

“So, you are a Muslim?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Is that why you don’t drink?”

“Are you still disappointed you cannot get me drunk?”

“I never said I was disappointed.”

“You don’t have to get me drunk to take advantage of me, I’ll let you do whatever you want even if I’m sober.” He winked, and she gasped at this boldness.

“Are you always this cocky?”

“I was complimenting you, actually. And I prefer the word confident,” he replied and bit his sandwich, clearly amused with her reaction.

She stole a glance at him and couldn’t help but smile. It’s unusual to feel this relaxed around him considering they met only a few hours earlier.

They walked in comfortable silence until the Thames was visible again.

Hamid stopped and sat down, patting the place beside him.

“It is so beautiful here!” she said mesmerized by the view of the London Eye and its bright colourful lights reflected in the dark waters.

“It is indeed the most magnificent view of the city,” he said softly, but his gaze was upon her, and she bit her lower lip and resumed eating.

Between bites on the sandwiches, they spoke about their studies, their lives before coming to London and much more. One subject leading to another.

Another one of his tales, and they both laughed hard. She bowed and covered her mouth with a hand, and he leaned against her, muffling the sound of the mirth against her shoulder. Once the laughter subsided, she noticed less and less groups were exiting the pubs, and she took the mobile out of the bag to check the clock. There were texts from Briar and Annabelle, and he looked away while she replied.

“Do you have to go?” asked Hamid when she put the phone away.

She sighed, “It’s late… and cold.”

“I can help with the cold.” Lifting one arm, he invited her to move closer. His arm wrapped around her and she rested her head on his shoulder, breathing his perfume and revelling on the perfection of this moment.

“Have you done all you wanted tonight?” he asked softly against her hair, and her eyes flicked from the skyline to him.

There was one thing she really wanted, but she wasn’t bold enough to do. On the other hand, there was also the crooked wig and the chance to see his real hair.

“There’s one last thing… but you’ll probably lose the bet.”

“I already lost it, and I don’t mind.”

“Can I?” She pointed at his head and he nodded.

“Remember what you are about to see is not my regular hair.”

Raising her hands, she gently removed the wig and handed it to him. Then his fingers combed his brown locks a few times and he asked with a smile, “How does it look?”

“Much better. It was crooked since we left the shop and driving me mad.”

“Won’t you miss it?” he asked waving the wig.

“Definitely not,” she chuckled, and they looked at each other for a moment.

“Anything else?” he insisted.

Wriggling her hands, she tried to ignore the unwelcoming cold air. “What else could we do, Hamid?” she returned the question, hoping he wanted the same and was bolder than her. “We have talked, went sightseeing, eaten the best kebab in town…”

He looked at her, his eyes as dark as the sky above them. “I have a few suggestions to add to your list…”

Raising to his feet, he offered his hands. Elizabeth took them and he gently pulled her closer.

“We could dance,” he whispered, placing her hands on his shoulder and his fingers grabbed her waist, “if you want to. I promise not to step on your dress. Or on your foot.”

Gazing at him, she smiled, and taking the queue, he started singing softly into her ear. Their bodies moved in an improvised slow dance. Ignoring the passers-by, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the familiar melody. The warmth of his breath against her skin ignited a heat that spread all over her body, and she almost forgot about the cold causing all the hair of her body to stand on end. Or perhaps that was caused by Hamid.

“We could stay here until the sun rises,” he spoke softly close to her ear and his lips brushed her earlobe, sending a shiver down her spine.

“The sun won’t rise in another five hours or so, Hamid… What would we even do until then?”

Smiling slyly, his hand raised to the side of her face and he tucked some curls behind her ear; and the feather-like touch of the backs of his fingers on her cheek caused her breath to hitch.

“We could do this…” he said, and his fingers gently tilted her chin up. 

Their gazes met and his eyes were glinting with adoration. Sparkling like the lights of the City. Slowly, he closed the distance, and their foreheads and noses touched. Heart hammering inside her chest, her lips were sucked into her mouth and she licked them, anticipating what was about to happen. His respiration fanned her skin and was warm, unlike the chilling night air. The tip of his nose rubbed against hers a few times, and Elizabeth drew in a sharp inhale, contemplating one last time Hamid’s half-closed eyes. At last, his lips touched hers in a tender and tentative encounter.

But then, he smiled, and his lips glided smoothly over hers. Warm. Soft. Stirring the flutter of dozens of butterflies on her stomach and silencing the entire world around. Soft kiss following soft kiss. Gently. Unhurriedly. The tips of his fingers caressed her neck and the side of her face, eliciting goose bumps on their wake.

“I wanted to kiss you the moment I saw you,” he murmured, and in response her arms encircled his neck, and she raised to her tiptoes and closed the remaining distance. Another series of kisses started. Enthusiastic. Exploratory. Interrupted by giggles and soft sighs, while they breathed each other in.

Flushed and out of breath, they parted; however, Hamid’s hands cupped her cheeks, keeping their faces so close that he was all that she could see.

Her smile was possibly as wide as his.

“Are you staying?”

“Excuse me?”

“To watch the sunrise?”

“Oh! Absolutely not,” she replied, “We’ll freeze to death!”

“It would be a lovely way to go…” he mused.

“If we die, there will be no more kissing.”

“You convinced me,” he said and kissed the tip of her nose. “I'll walk you home.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. halal meat - meat prepared as prescribed by Muslim law.  
> 2\. Quran - the Islamic sacred book.


End file.
